Goldfish in the Deep End

The chlorine stung Marcus's eyes as he hovered at the edge of the pool, clutching his orange juice like a lifeline. Jordan's party was supposed to be legendary, but so far he'd spent forty minutes perfecting the art of looking busy without actually doing anything.

"Yo, Marcus!" Jordan yelled from the diving board, surrounded by his squad. "We're doing the pyramid! Get in here!"

A pyramid. In the water. Because apparently basic human coordination wasn't embarrassing enough on solid ground.

Marcus's chest tightened. The social hierarchy at school was already a pyramid he couldn't climb, and now he had to literally build one? Meanwhile, Kayla—whose hair had somehow morphed into electric orange overnight because of course it had—was already climbing onto Tyler's shoulders like she'd been training for this moment her entire life.

He glanced at the inflatable goldfish bobbing forgotten in the corner, its painted smile mocking him. That goldfish was living its best life. No expectations. No pyramid formations. Just floating.

"Marcus?" Jordan called again, softer this time. "You good?"

Everyone was looking. The pool went quiet except for the filter's hum. This was it—the moment where he either became part of the group or the kid who bailed on a human pyramid.

His legs moved before his brain could panic.

"Yeah," Marcus said, setting down his juice. "Yeah, I'm coming."

He waded in. The water felt warmer than he expected. When Kayla reached down from Tyler's shoulders and grabbed his hand, her grip was surprisingly solid. They built it layer by layer—laughing, wobbling, nearly collapsing twice—and when Marcus finally found himself perched at the top, looking down at all of them, he realized something.

He wasn't drowning.

"Hey Marcus," someone yelled. "Smile for the pic!"

He smiled. The goldfish drifted past below him, still wearing that ridiculous grin, and Marcus thought, yeah. This was okay. This was actually okay.